


You Looking Good, Cap!

by Llexeh



Series: Everything's Gonna Be Alright [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (recently ngl), Banter, Established Relationship, Initial Angst, M/M, a bit of a roast tbh, content warning: suicidal thoughts (for a bit), gonna fuck them up for a bit and then fix them i promise, initial character death ish, literally not-happy endings make me anxious so none of that here, more tags to be added with the second chapter, post-Steve Is Going to Lose His Damn Mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llexeh/pseuds/Llexeh
Summary: Any minor inconvenience makes Tony want to run away and hide. Preferably forever. Okay, maybe a mild coma. Perhaps hermitage? Not the museum. Just aloneness. But any major inconvenience? Inconvenience is too small a word. Not literally. It's not enough to convey the end of the world for Tony. The loss. Not the meme. But the loss. It almost kills him. It ends up killing neither of them. And there's hope for aloneness together. Almost hermitage but together. There's hope, to be perfectly honest, in the way colour returns to Steve's milk-white pale skin.Sequel to “Steve Is Going to Lose His Damn Mind”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Everything's Gonna Be Alright [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580617
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	You Looking Good, Cap!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, good people! Yes, it took me a whole ass year to come back and post something. No, I don't know how this happened, my memories of this entire year are a bit blurry. Yes, I'm sorry for not putting up more content. I'll try harder but my brain's an arsehole and sometimes it just won't. 
> 
> That being said, this is the next bit in my Stony verse. This won't make much sense without having read "Steve Is Going to Lose His Damn Mind". This takes place immediately after. It sports a POV change and a tense change, hopefully it reads a bit differently than the other series. 
> 
> Heed the tags: there are mentions of suicidal thoughts, as well as panic and despair, bad-bad thoughts and the like. Please proceed with care. There's angst in this, but I promise-promise I'll fix it in the next chapter and we'll be back to smut & filth. 
> 
> Endless thanks to Joeybelle - my bff and (fanfic) soulmate, for putting up with me even when I'm crap and don't write for weeks months years. iubmultben
> 
> Very unbeta-ed. Unbetaed? Unbeta'ed? Still awkward. 
> 
> Also, this is not Yank-wanked (how fucking funny is this term, oh my god) - I forget to spell words the American way like 90% of the time, so excuse words that look odd.

He knows darkness. He knows pain and worry. He knows helplessness and he knows regret. He knows shortness of breath. By his parents’ coffins. In the cave in Afghanistan. On the floor where he woke up half naked in a puddle of his own vomit. When Obie pulled his arc reactor out and he felt his heart ache like it never had before.

He knows time slowing down as Horrible takes over him. Like he’s caught in tar, trying to outrun the pain. He knows the despair intimately. He now knows what it feels like to watch Steve die. And wanting to plummet to his death as every horrendous emotion he ever experienced takes over.

He watches Steve fall to his death as a Doombot explodes, bringing down half a building on the man Tony loves. He hears Steve’s scream over the comm, outside of the comm, in his very soul. And then the world stops spinning. Time stops moving forward. Tony wishes he could stop existing. But nothing is ever that easy. He vaguely registers Bucky’s panicked shout, and Natasha’s repeated calls for Steve over the comm. He hovers, watching as rubble and dust spread out from the site of the crash. There’s a sort of perverted contentedness lurking in the shallows of his mind, unmitigated proof that he is a failure, just like he’d heard from his father, from Obie, from the fucking journalist who’d accused him of facilitating death. He tries to reject the feeling, but it takes a hold of him nonetheless and his entire being is screaming of his complete and utter defeat. 

Tony’s familiar with almost dying. Even before he became Iron Man, he has always been in some sort of danger, whether it was self-inflicted or a consequence of his heritage. And every time he was close to his life finally ending, he experienced flashes of good memories, of bad memories, of random facts that he never got to share with anyone. 

But now that he’s alive when Steve isn’t, it feels a million times worse. He hears Steve’s laugh ring in his ears, over the background of despair and chaos below him. He hears Steve’s moans and pleas and whispers. He hears Steve’s confession over and over again. He hears the quips they exchanged and the smile that accompanied them only minutes before. 

When he realises he will never hear them again he dives to the wreckage, finally letting out the anguished scream that has been bubbling in his chest.

* * *

As a boy, Steve read a lot. At times, it was the sole source of entertainment, especially when he was stripped of pretty much every other enjoyment that required any stamina. He read everything he could find, good books, bad books, bits and pieces, discarded newspapers and journals. He had to pause often; his eyes would get strained from squinting in the bad lighting, and he’d spend the time in between unbearable headache and manageable pain staring out the window and daydreaming about the things he’d read. 

Flying was a big one. He’d tell his mother all about it over dinner, he’d tell Bucky about it when they were children. He’d explain about the planes and the zeppelins and the hot air balloons. Then he’d draw it and imagine how it must feel to be weightless, unaffected by illness. At times, Steve thought about how it would feel to stop existing altogether, how liberating and how beautiful. But as Tony held him tightly, he forced those particular memories out, choosing to focus on the nicer aspects of his experience. 

Of course he’d flown before. He’d jumped out of several planes and such. He’d used a parachute, he’d even flown with Tony. But nothing he had ever experienced, not even being reborn with full-capacity lungs and an imposing frame felt like this. It was somehow better than he’d ever imagined, as close to freely flying to his heart’s desire as possible. To be in Tony’s arms, whose words rang in his ears, accompanied by the howling of the wind that came with their speed. To be protected but liberated at the same time. To be accepted and to have his wishes granted. To feel the strength of Tony’s arms, even as they were clad in metal - the suit an extension of the man, not a replacement. 

Bereft of the steadying pressure of the embrace, alone and watching the sky rapidly distancing itself from him, Steve thought falling was absolutely nothing like flying.

* * *

It starts off okay. In hindsight, he wishes for some clairvoyance powers so he knows when to stay the fuck at home, in bed, ideally draped across Steve, and away from anything that threatens his new-found happiness. 

“You ready to rock and roll?” Tony asks with a little shoulder wiggle. 

“Why are you so god damned corny?” Sam sighs, making Steve chuckle. 

“It’s too easy,” Tony says, heading down to land on a rooftop. He sets Steve down gently close to the ledge of the building.

“What is?” 

“Corny, horny, get with the program Stevie, come on! You’d think you were still a blushing virgin with how clueless you are,” Bucky laughs at Steve, and several others join in. 

“Well, you’re an asshole,” Steve announces, taking in the situation, hand resting on his hip. “And you can kiss your birthday present goodbye, along with my ass.” 

“Whoa, you’d also think you’d be more relaxed,” Bucky counters, the sound of shooting almost drowning him. “And my birthday’s not for another eight months!”

Steve quickly locates his best friend, back to back with Black Panther. They’re caught in between Doombots, working together to keep them away from the escaping civilians. “Status report. Widow come in.” 

“I’ve secured Clint, we’re currently heading to higher ground. This dickhead figured he can run with a twisted ankle – stop wiggling! The twins are still pinned and none of us can get to them. Thor’s unconscious, Vision’s with him. Give us a hand?”

“Yes, I could really use a hand right now,” Vision replies, clipped tone etched with sarcasm. 

Tony’s mind automatically goes to earlier, when he’s said the same words to his boyfriend. No matter how many times he says it in his head, he’ll probably always feel a rush. Boyfriend. At his age. At _Steve’s_ age, Jesus! He giggles despite himself. 

“Be careful,” Steve tells him quietly. Even unsaid, Tony can hear the endearment that follows. 

He offers a reassuring smile and a nod before dropping the faceplate. “Come on,” he urges. He lifts off, grabbing Steve’s outstretched arm and depositing him on the street below. The man takes off as soon as his feet touch the tarmac. 

Tony’s happy his face is hidden when he watches Steve fight his way to Vision and Thor. He almost flies the same way, ready to throw himself at anything that can endanger Steve. He actually starts towards the corner Steve turns, but the next thing he knows he’s thrown backwards into a wall. He blasts the Doombots surrounding Black Panther and Bucky almost methodically, buying them time to regroup. 

Steve’s voice is grounding in his ears when he yells, “Vision, down! Duck!” 

Seconds later, Sam’s sigh follows. “Why you gotta be so goddamn dramatic? Hurry up, I’m covering you.” 

There’s a latent nervousness in the back of his mind, stemming from his inability to see Steve. Until he remembers he can figure that out and asks Friday to get him a visual. He tunes in just in time to watch the man use his shield as he helps Vision move Thor. It’s a bit like watching a movie, shot in shit quality and with the man he loves as an unfortunate protagonist. Steve is being pulled back by an out-of-nowhere larger bot. Tony wants to punch Doom with _and_ without his suit on. Asshole. Once more, he almost flies there, but there’s a fresh wave of robots and Tony’s ready to use the heavy weaponry and get it over with. 

“Take it up with HR,” Steve says, his voice fragmented by his breathing. Tony shouldn’t find it as stimulating, but he does anyway. 

“What HR? We don’t have a functioning HR department!” Vision’s exasperation is clear, but so is the amusement behind it. 

“Then shut the hell up and be helpful!” 

Tony’s laugh flows out of him unexpectedly, it fills his chest with contentedness. 

“Captain Fucking Testy,” Clint mutters, but Tony spent months figuring out the best optimisation for their earpieces. “You’d think you’d be more relaxed,” the man repeats Bucky’s earlier words. On the feed Tony gets, he sees the archer rain down arrows on the bot Steve’s fighting. They fry its circuits when they go off after two short beeps. 

Steve bashes it repeatedly with the shield, with what look like calculated hits, partly dismantling it. “I was perfectly relaxed, but you seem determined to annoy the shit out of me today.” 

“Perfectly relaxed, eh?” The leer is unexpected in Black Panther’s normally serious voice. 

In between giggles, Tony finally finds wiggle room to intervene. “Leave him alone, guys. Doom interrupted our date.”

“On my birthday!” Steve adds, petulance seeping out when he speaks. 

“On his birthday!” Tony repeats unnecessarily, with exaggerated outrage. 

“Stark!” Bucky’s voice has a sense of urgency as it reaches him. He watches the man gesture to his ear as T’Challa’s clawing at what’s left of the bots. 

Tony sweeps down, opening a panel on his suit to retrieve a new comm. “Fairy squadmother!” he proclaims in a sing-song voice. 

“A what?” Barnes asks. “What else you hiding in that suit of yours?” 

“My di–” 

“Tony!” 

“Yes, light of my life?” He knows he’s playing a dangerous game, annoying Steve like that. He can’t help himself, though. Not really. He’s been waiting, hopeful despite knowing better, for the moment when he’d be able to rile Steve up and the subsequent heated look would lead to more than just shamefully coming all over his fist in the loneliness of his lab at night. 

“Stop fucking around and check on the twins. Vision and Sam are covering us, you’re the only one that’s got eyes in the sky!” 

“You kiss Tony with that mouth?” Clint asks, laughing weakly. 

“Actually –” 

“Stark!” Steve’s scolding tone goes straight to his dick and he’s honestly unable to help it. 

“Yes, dear! On my way, dear! You know, if I’d sent this on an iPhone, the shortcut would be oh-em-double-u and it would look like I’m really excited, but in reality I’m just saying I’m gonna be there soon and – Hi babies!” He lands next to the twins, blasting away Doombots left and right. “I’m gonna be your ride out of here today.” 

“Shut up, Stark,” Pietro says with a tired chuckle. 

“Okay, rude?” 

“Take Wanda –” 

“Pietro, stop being a –” 

“Stop telling me what to –” 

A Doombot flies backwards by them. Steve stops next to him, pulling the cowl off. “I swear I’ll ground all of you!” 

Tony’s hands shoot up to placate him. “I’m innocent, see? I’m just here on your orders, trying to help them and they’re being bratty and –” 

“I’ll ground you first,” Steve tells him, accusing finger poking at his chest. There’s a shadow of a smile in the corner of his mouth, so he can’t be that pissed off. 

Tony tries to focus. He really does. But Steve looks so beautiful, it’s nearly impossible to do anything other than stare. His hair’s sticking out, there are smudges of dirt on his cheeks. He looks fierce, larger than life, powerful. Gorgeous. “Darling,” he whispers almost reverently, having trouble accepting that the loving voice belongs to him. 

For a split second, Steve’s determination fades, but he gets back with the program as soon as they hear a large crash in the distance. He quickly assessed the situation. “There’s a large group of people in the basement of that building,” he points. “Take Pietro there, I’ll help Wanda. You two, stay with the civilians, do crowd control, shout if you need help.” 

“Captain, I can –”

Steve groans. “When exactly did I lose all my authority? Don’t answer that. Tony?” 

“The question or the orders?” 

“Orders first.” 

“Aye, aye!” 

Once they make sure the twins were settled in their new positions, Steve turns to Tony. “Can you take me up? We need to reassess.” 

He has to physically bite his tongue to stop from being crude, choosing instead to open his arms so Steve can step in his embrace. Even through the metal, holding Steve feels wonderful. Like how it feels when he settles into bed after a two-day marathon of lab work. Like how it feels to wash away the grime after a battle. Like how it feels to get a solution to a problem. Like home. When they land, he’s nowhere near ready to let go. He quickly opens his faceplate, hovering enough to hide Steve’s face. Then he ducks and presses his lips to the man’s jaw. 

“Tony,” the man sighed. 

He pulls back immediately. “I missed you,” he whispers. When Steve smiles he has to shake his head to clear it. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. What do your elf eyes see?”

“Doombots,” Steve deadpans. “I thought Clint was Legolas?” 

“I thought you haven’t seen ‘Lord of the Rings’?”

“ _I_ thought we were mid-battle here,” Natasha chips in, tone short and _done_. “I also thought I was gonna have to lock you two away until you finally hooked up,” she adds, laughing as she shoots at the bots. 

“Now she tells me! You couldn’t have done that before I convinced myself Steve would never like me like that?!” Tony’s outraged but also amused, a good combination of giddiness to experience. 

“It would have invalidated the pool, she couldn’t do anything about it,” Vision explains.

“You were betting that we were gonna get together?” Steve’s disbelieving tone is potentially the cutest thing ever.

He opens his mouth to say as much, but he gets cut off by Rhodey’s, “No!”, and then by Bucky adding, “We were betting on when!”

“You all suck,” he says petulantly as he jumps down on one of the Doombots taking over the street below. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tony asks, definitely not proud of his high pitched voice. He flies down and starts shooting. “Jesus Christ, one day I’ll actually have to punish you,” he mutters angrily, partly to himself, partly to Steve, completely ignoring the fact that they can hear him over the comms. 

“Fighting Doom’s asshole Doombots, what does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Giving me a reason to scowl at you in silence for at least like seven minutes before giving in and kissing you! Shield up!” he instructs. As soon as Steve complies, Tony shoots at it, enjoying the efficiency of the reflected beam as it takes down several bots at once. 

“You guys are adorable,” Nat coos right before cursing repeatedly in angry Russian. “These things just keep coming,” she adds. 

“I’ve been racking my brains to come up with something since you called us!” Tony’s closing in on frantic territory mind-wise, and he’d rather avoid that if he can. “Otherwise we’ll just run out of energy and Doom will probably cream himself in that ugly cape of his.” 

The groans that follow are endearing. “For fuck’s sake, Stark! What about an EMP?” Clint offers. 

“That could work.” It’s been on his mind since Natasha mentioned Doom. It’s an extreme solution, true, but it would also solve their problem. He’s just glad Barton said it instead of him. 

“What about your suit?” There’s underlying coldness in Steve’s voice, something Tony definitely shouldn’t find as hot as he does. Steve’s negative emotions don’t turn him on, he muses. It’s not that, it’s the layers of care that Tony knows inform the reaction.

“I can fix the suit,” he offers, knowing it won’t go down well. 

“Out of the question – stay down, Jesus Christ!” Steve shouts at a bot that’s still crawling towards him. There’s a brief respite, so he turns to Tony. Even with the cowl on, the downturned corners of his mouth speak volumes. “Are you trying to get me mad on purpose?” he asks, his voice actually oddly calm. 

Tony lands next to him. “I’m trying to win us this fight,” he counters. He’s moderately irked by the whole exchange. It isn’t even that Steve’s questioning his ways, _that_ he’s used to. But while the concern is heartwarming, it’s also slightly overbearing. “Look, I’m grateful you’re looking out for me but –” 

“Tony,” Steve says quietly. 

Well, that makes him feel like an asshole. He doesn’t want to upset Steve; not now, not ever. Yes, they’re equally stubborn and concerned for the other’s wellbeing, as well as for their family’s safety, and Tony understands where Steve’s coming from. The thought of Steve getting hurt makes him feel sick. So he nods. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry,” he says and touches the man’s shoulder briefly. 

Steve opens his mouth to reply, the sinful curve of his lips making Tony’s heart flutter, when a loud explosion actually shakes the ground below them. “Shit!” 

They can see the telltale signs of fire in the distance, south of their position, lighting up the sky and what looks to be an entire block. “You ready, Cap?”

“I’m ready to punch Doom in the face,” he says in a determined voice. 

“And after?” Tony laughs as he hovers above Steve.

“Cuddles,” he states. “Cheeseburgers and cuddles.”

“Marry me,” Tony blurts as he circles his arms around Steve’s chest, entwining his fingers under the shield Steve holds in front of his chest. 

“No dirty talk in battle,” Steve tells him and even as voices join the channel, for two seconds Tony can only hear him. 

He flies them towards the fire. “You’re making it really hard, Cap,” he says, smirking under the faceplate. 

“I need you to give me a way to mute you,” Rhodey groans, flying by their side. “Please!”

“I’m sorry, Colonel,” Steve replies instantly. “Get me close to that one,” he points at a large Doombot. 

“You happy about this, Rhodey?” Then he catches on. “I suppose you also want me to launch you into the fucking thing, don’t you?” He can’t help the way his sigh is equal parts exasperated and amused. Maybe a bit loving as well. 

“If you’d be so kind.”

Everything in him screams against throwing Steve anywhere near the raging fire. He hears the fire trucks, but it’s clear they won’t be enough. He holds Steve tighter, trying to come up with something. “Platypus! Can you engage the bot to take it to the side?” 

Steve speaks at the same time. “Wanda, come in!” Then he turns to Tony as much as he can, smiling sweetly. “Sorry, I didn’t –” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not –” He stops when it hits him that for all they discussed their feelings and insecurities, team dynamics didn’t even skirt the edges of his mind, let alone cross it. It’s easy for him - he would and he will follow Steve to the end of the world. He’ll be honest and call Steve out when needed but his loyalties are firmly with the man. The poignant pause that makes Tony roll his eyes. “Don’t all rush in, guys.”

Nat’s the first one to speak. “We’re waiting to see who to follow.” 

“Your instincts!” Steve barks. “Here’s a fire, here’s a bunch of superheroes. What do?”

“Who teaches you these things?” Tony can’t help his laugh. “Chop chop, let’s go! Rhodey!” he tries again. 

“On it!”

“Wanda!” Steve calls.

“Here,” the woman’s reply came promptly. 

“We need containment, can you help?” Steve wiggles in Tony’s hold, trying to get loose. “Tony.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine, brace yourself.” Against his better judgement, he speeds up to where Rhodey’s annoying the bot. When he gets close enough, and Steve has his knees up behind the shield as well, he lets go of the man, launching him into the Doombot. “But if you get hurt I get to lock you in the tower, you can grow your hair and beard out and we’ll reenact ‘Tangled’ without the evil witch!”

Steve dives shield first into the bot, making it stagger. He proceeds to bash it repeatedly, ignoring the obvious difference in size . “I don’t know what that means,” he says as he uses the edge of the shield to peel off the plating on the bot’s back. 

Tony’s mind is reeling, torn between coming up with a plan and images of Steve’s long blond hair sprawled on his pillow as he rode him. He wasn’t even aware the idea of long-haired Steve would be a turn on. “I promised the exact same thing like an hour ago, do you even listen to me?” 

“Were you naked when you said that?” Steve’s panting is distracting enough without the added visual of his strong arms flexing. 

“Guys!” Clint’s voice is a bit exasperated, which is inherently amusing, as much as it makes Tony an asshole for finding it so. 

He can and he will admit beautiful things catch his eye often and a lot of his kind-of-romantic exploits have been informed by looks. Sometimes, when he’d been extra shallow, looks were the only box to tick. Now, though. Now, Steve brought with him a myriad of boxes and then proceded to tick them all, making Tony groan at his question. “Yeah? I don’t know,” he replies honestly. 

Steve’s arm is halfway in the circuits on the bot’s back. “I barely listen when you’re wearing clothes,” he says, tint of annoyance in his voice. Probably at the fight, but Tony’s heart sinks a little. 

Nonetheless, he dives down feet first, kicking the bot’s head with his soles. “Aww, I’m hurt,” he tries for a joke, but he worries Steve can tell anyway. 

He can, it turns out. The bot is decommissioned by their joint efforts, now a pile of future scrap on the ground. Steve is sporting a cheeky smile when he stops next to him briefly. “You make it hard to focus, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

Tony’s heart is a rollercoaster, he realises. More than shrapnel threatening him at all times, it’s a manic ride full of skipping beats and rushing when Steve breathes towards him. Which is fair, he surmises, given the angles of his boyfriend’s face, the symmetry, the sweetness of his lips. “I’m fucked,” Tony tells him before hovering, hand out and ready to pick Steve up. 

The man opens his mouth, then chuckles knowingly. “It’s too easy. But also, yes.” He shifts the shield on his back and grabs Tony’s hand. There’s a brief thought that Steve knows exactly what he’s doing, and that he’s perfectly aware his whispers still carry through the earpieces. It’s lost once Steve speaks. “You want me in the pink dress too?” he asks quietly. “Do you have a horse? You wanna use my long hair as a sex swing?” 

Tony’s brain must have short circuited at some point, because he finally becomes aware of the guwaffs in his ear what must be seconds later. Steve’s grinning, the sneaky little shit, and Tony’s earlier conviction that he wasn’t physically able to be more attracted to Steve crumbles. His cheeks feel hot, and he’s so glad for the faceplate. “Shut up,” he grumbles. 

“I’ll ground you both,” Wanda says then, voice short. 

“Shit,” Steve whispers, and he signals Tony to take off by moving his fingers up on the forearm of the suit and holding on tight. 

“My baby,” Tony coos at Wanda. “Look at her, all grown up and grumpy.” He flies them to where the girl is hovering, the fire contained in a huge bubble while she’s throwing energy balls towards the bots. Below her, the firefighters work relentlessly. 

“You adopted her as well?” Rhodey asks, shooting down bots climbing to get to Wanda.

“More like she adopted me,” Tony replies with a laugh. 

Steve lets go and lands more gracefully than Tony thought possibly. He’s up in no time, rushing to help. “Vision, what’s Thor’s status?” 

“He seems to be coming to.” 

“Good,” Steve says. “Is he okay?” 

“He’s growling at us, so I say yes,” Pietro replies instead. 

“Even better. Thor, Wanda needs some help with the fire, could you –”

“Yes,” the gruff voice interrupts. They can hear the thunder rolling through the night sky, approaching them quickly. “Where’s Doom?” Thor shouts as heavy rain starts falling over burning area. 

“We’re getting to that,” Tony informs him. The street below is flooded with more bots, and he’s so over this fight, especially since his mind is reeling with Steve-scenarios. He wonders briefly if this is what being a writer feels like. He’s ready to be home, cuddled up to Steve’s naked body, watching Tangled. “Thor, get me some power, buddy.” 

“Aye!” 

The new rumble of thunder makes the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stand up. He’s ready when lightning hits him, and he channels it into a beam of pure energy, tearing a hole in the horde of bots. 

“Nice!” Steve praises, rolling out of the way as metal flies around him. “How we looking?”

“Good,” Tony whistled. “You looking good, Cap,” he says slyly. 

“Focus, Stark, god damn it,” Bucky urges, running up to where they’re collectively keeping Wanda safe so she can contain the fire. Pietro joins them, creating small air voids that help put out the smaller flames.

Tony sighs. “Where’s Johnny when you need him?” 

“Johnny, is it?” Steve asks testily. 

He knows laughing is the wrong thing to do, he also knows that Steve is probably joking despite his impatient tone. He can’t help the guwaffs. “What would you have me call him? Mister Storm? He’s what, 20?” 

“Why would you call him at all?” Steve mutters, shield-bashing the attackers relentlessly. 

Falcon’s laugh fills the comms. “Are you jealous, Cap?” 

“No!” 

“Don’t let Buzzfeed in on this, I’ll have to unsubscribe.”

“Ten photos of Human Torch’s abs that prove he’s the improved version of Captain America.” 

There’s remorse in Tony’s mind now. “Who the fuck teaches you these things, Barnes?” 

“Darcy,” the man says with a laugh. “Stevie, you know I’m joking, right?” 

“Shut up,” Steve tells him.

That seems to be the wrong thing to say. “Hear that, Stevie, 20! You’re what, 150 today?” 

“I’m gonna be mourning your rude ass today if you don’t shut up. Heads up!” He throws the shield in a wide arc, making it ricochet between several bots before it reaches Bucky.

The Winter Soldier catches it in his non-metal arm, something that Tony finds seriously impressive. “Storm doesn’t have your cool metal frisbee, Steve, don’t you worry!” 

Tony lands next to his boyfriend, kicking a crawling bot away from them. “You don’t actually believe that, right?” 

“Nah,” Steve confirms, but his voice is distant, like he’s only half replying. Tony regrets ever mentioning Storm’s name. “Not really,” he adds quietly. 

There’s a lot Tony wants to tell him. He wants to shout that he loves _him_ , that he wants to wake up next to _him_ , that he wants to bend _him_ over a table and eat him out for hours. But he can’t, not in that setting, not with everyone listening in. He’d shout it from the rooftops, and he considers it briefly. But then they’re being shot at and he knows his time is limited. 

He lifts the faceplate. “You’re the one that I want,” he sings offkey, smiling as genuinely as he can before he takes off once more. 

“I don’t understand that reference,” Steve shouts after him, but his face is split in a grin, and for now, Tony knows it’s okay. “Take me up?” 

“Taaake meee up,” Tony sings, fully aware that he’s as conditioned as Pavlov’s dog when it comes to music. But he nods and grabs Steve’s offered hand once more. “Need a lift, babe?” he asks and giggles like an idiot. 

“You need to be stopped,” Rhodey’s voice cuts in Steve’s groan. 

Tony’s grateful for his teammates. But he’s also worried by the resilience of the bots, by their numbers, he worries about Doom’s plan, he worries that Steve is actually jealous, he worries he’s not good enough, he worries he’s too old, too fucked up, too short, too manic. He worries as he flies around checking for damage and civilians, thinking all the scenarios in which Steve up and leaves, in which he’s left sitting alone in the middle of the bed. 

Vision is carrying an exhausted Wanda away. He feels bad for the kid, but he’s so grateful. Thor’s lightning fall relentlessly. There really seems to be no end to the incoming bots. He wonders where Doom finds the motivation to be so shit. Tony gets bored of things really quickly. Even grudges bore him after a while. Perhaps not this particular grudge that he now has on Doom for ruining his nice time with Steve. 

They’re all tired. They’re wet and tired and this is taking too long. He’s contemplating using an EMP anyway, deal with the consequences later. But the main issue – he knows the main issue should be the fact that it would affect his suit. But even so the main issue is that Doom will just send more, and even if it works on a greater scale, at the end of the day it’s just a temporary solution. He’s got Friday checking for a signal, for anything that can give away Doom’s location. 

He wants to get Steve to hold the shield up and do another reflective strong beam. They’d rehearsed it before, it works well, and the number of enemies asks for it. Steve’s arm is pulled back and he looks ready to launch the shield again. 

“Tony!” Steve calls, and the shield’s flying up towards him. 

He hears the loud clang of collision, the sound of metal falling in a heap on the street below. He catches Steve’s shield, uncertain what is happening. 

There’s a second of silence. Of complete silence, he thinks perhaps he’s gone deaf. 

Then hell. 

The sounds all rush around him. He watches Steve fall to his death as a Doombot explodes, bringing down half a building on the man Tony loves. He hears Steve’s scream over the comm, outside of the comm, in his very soul. He hovers there, uselessly holding on to Steve’s shield still. Below him, the dust spreads out in waves, flowing down the street like fog. Bucky’s panicked shout, Natasha’s repeated calls for Steve. Their family’s voices, all overlapping, all filling his head with the reality that Steve is gone. When he realises, he dives to the wreckage, finally letting out the anguished scream that has been bubbling in his chest. 

He can’t see. He can’t breathe. The dust particles fill his eyes and nose and throat, it stings to keep breathing and he wishes he could stop. It feels like the desert, like having his head dunked in water, like torture that he has no reason to take anymore. Someone is calling his name, but he can’t stop digging. 

Someone is calling his name. 

A hand on his shoulder, but he can’t deal with it. 

He can’t see. 

Can’t breathe. 

He rips his faceplate off, throws it to the side. 

“Stark!”

He can’t.

“Tony, Tony listen!” 

Next to his ear, there’s a metal-on-metal sound. He looks. Fingers. Barnes. 

“What?” he growls. 

“Stop. It’s – stop, Tony.” 

He doesn’t understand. Bucky’s arms go around his torso and he’s being pulled back. Back, away from the pitifully small area he’d managed to dig.

“No!” 

But Barnes is dragging him and he finds himself go. He feels strong gusts of wind on his face, and he tries to cover his eyes. There’s a thought he could just hold the palm to his eyes, fire a whole through his head where Obie is howling gleefully. 

He gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

He’s squinting now, desperate to get his bearings and go back to where Steve is. Barnes is pushing him down on the ground, coming up on his right side to pull him into his chest. 

“We need to be smart, Tony. You need to stay with me, hold on for a second.” 

“Steve,” Tony barks, unable to voice any more than that. He wants to, but words get caught in the quicksand of his throat and he’s quieted by the weight of his worst failure. He tries to claw at Bucky’s unyielding hold. 

“He’s alive,” Barnes shouts in his ear, and it feels like Tony’s heart stops. 

“No! I watched him he can’t be his shield look I have –” He doesn’t. He doesn’t have the shield. He looks up at Bucky and his eyes are burning now. He forces himself to keep them open. To _see_ Steve. He deserves it. “His shield! I lost his shield!” Once again he tries to jerk himself free. 

In the midst of the apocalypse that had taken hold of his mind, there’s a treacherous flutter of a silver lining he can’t shut away. He knows cruelty intimately, he’d witnessed it and experienced it, and it had altered the course of his life. But even so, Bucky wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him about Steve. Not cruel, but definitely hindering Tony. 

It dawns on him, a sign that perhaps he’s closer to being at least a tiny bit in control. A thought that is clear and useful and that he can actually mould. It takes mere seconds and he’s out of the suit, leaving him back with Barnes. And he’s running, the air breathable again, even if his spit is thickened with concrete dust and bile. Bucky could catch him, but Bucky wasn’t cruel and Bucky knew he had to do this. 

He’s climbing on rubble, trying to reach further into the mess, to Steve, always to Steve. The cruel perverted corner of his mind, ready to suggest the worst, always with the back-up plan, always flat on his back flexing its fingers into his spine, ready to push him off the edge - it’s rumbling now. Grunting as it provides is way out, showing him the precipice just off his path where he could be rejoined with Steve. In whatever afterlife there is. But Bucky wasn’t cruel, Bucky wouldn’t be cruel. 

He thinks perhaps he’s finally losing it when the edges of his vision become reddened, and he’s floating now so maybe he’s only dreaming – a terrible nightmare, cause now he’s out of his suit, unable to – but then chunks of the building start moving out of the way, parting like the Red Sea and Tony remembers religion vaguely, on withered fingertips touching his forehead, his chest, then his shoulders. The softness of the prayer made him mellow and he doubted, as he always did, but he cherished. 

The whisper from his childhood, praying for his restlessness to end. The voice of a nanny, he can’t remember her name but he knows the kindness in her eyes. It echoes in his head, undefined, like warmth from a steady fire while it snows and he wants to cry but the tears stop in his throat and he swallows again and again. It’s like having a bone broken slowly, counting fragments of seconds. 

Then he sees. Steve’s chest is rising. He’s being carefully lifted, shrouded in Wanda red, cradled away from danger. Tony feels himself being moved in the same direction as Steve. Perhaps there’s a chance to join him in whatever life there is. He thinks he’s finally crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! I'm sorry if this time is rough for you, I'm sending you all my love and good thoughts. (My tumblr inbox is always open to any and all who need to vent or talk about anything. Pls reach out if you need someone to talk to.) 
> 
> I can't give you a date for the next chapter, my mental health is fucking with me and my writing so it's most likely gonna be a while. Thank you for being patient.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line and let me know how you found it. Remember, if you don't have anything nice to say, make sure it's at least constructive. If it can't be constructive, shove it up your arse. Thanks for reading, much love xx
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://llexeh.tumblr.com/)!


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